Coffee
by JimmyDANj2
Summary: Claire really didn't get why people were so stir crazy about Christmas that they needed to start so early. And oh - It was just her luck too, that this stammering, apologetic man would spill the stuff all over her boots. AU, Hope/Lightning. Now a series of short, mostly unrelated stories!
1. Coffee

Coffee

Claire's breath misted in front of her as she vaulted her gaze over the massive looming tree.

Her mittens did little to keep her fingers from feeling like they'd fall off any coming second so she bunched her hands together, glaring at the tree as if it was somehow its fault she stood rigid like a human popsicle.

From it hung ornaments from all possible motes of decoration canon: baubles and glittering lights and sunken, years-old carvings of elves and holly and wreaths, and god, she wouldn't be the smallest bit surprised if-

Yes, there it was, poised precariously near the top, just short of the styrofoam star: a tactless, haphazardly sewn angel, stitched complete with a faded yellow halo attached by a small but painfully visible wire.

Really, she didn't mean to be so cynical, but was it really, truly necessary to have it up a full three weeks before Christmas arrives? It was only the other day Serah had dragged her over for Thanksgiving.

To its right sprawled a complex, arrayed with dangling mistletoe over shop thresholds, empty benches with filmy dew misted over their crevices, a throng of people, cheeks glowing with both cold and excitement for the coming holidays.

"Shi-"

She nearly sprawled to the floor. Whoever had walked into her was already there.

Her vein throbbed with the discomfort of coffee, slimed and freezing, dripping down her covered ankle.

Her first irrational thought - of course, _before_ the biting nasty earful she was about to dispense with this incontrovertible _moron_ who couldn't be bothered to look where he was going - was who the _fuck_ would order iced fucking coffee on a day like this, when he'd shot up with the blistering speed of a blaring alarm, emerald eyes panicked, teeth chattering with at once horror and cold.

"Oh- Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry," he clumsily ducked under again to try to wipe at her soaked boots with obvious anxiety coloring his every movement, which of course made the stain worse, and Claire was actually beginning to feel pity. _Beginning to_, at least.

"Up," she seethed, tugging at his elbows remorselessly. "Come on, _up_."

When he complied, he did so averting his gaze - she caught a flash of squirming emerald - his cheeks positively crimson as he shivered with ill-disguised distress.

"I'm sorry," he babbled again. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to- I mean, I- I'll pay for the...the…"

She rolled her eyes. He was so wound up _she_ was getting nervous.

"Calm down," she said slowly, making sure he'd stopped fidgeting before continuing. "Just forget about it."

"But-"

"_Forget about it._"

She was past caring. She just wanted to go home, curl up by the fire, and forget Christmas existed until it was no longer physically possible because Serah would have inevitably hung stockings and forced Snow to buy a tree from Costco and dragged Claire up to help prop it up.

If she was quick, she could maybe raid the fridge before they got home and be drunk enough to blot this night from her memories permanently-

"Wait, p-please," a gloved hand at her elbow.

She frowned.

Turning, she saw him, teeth still clattering, arms folded over themselves self-consciously, knees bent in that slight way of indicating one would rather be anywhere than where he was, which made them have one thing in common, she dreaded to realize.

And yet he hadn't removed his hand.

"Please," he muttered. "I can't leave without- just let...let me at least make it up to you."

If he were any other stranger who fed her that line, she would've scoffed, swiveled on her feet, and been on her way. Maybe left him with a punch in the gut for good measure.

But she took in his trembling visage. Heavy breathing, nails biting into palm, eyes _still_ darting in every direction but hers.

He really_, actually _didn't want to be there.

Claire wasn't as savvy with people as her sister, but even she recognized that this man had the social grace of a catfish.

Yet, he was here. A quivering, sweat-soaked mess, but he was still here.

The only explanation left was that he genuinely wanted - or, at the very least, needed - to make amends.

She sighed, hand scrubbing her face vigorously as she tortured him with silence for a few further moments.

"There's a Starbucks," she snapped, startling him. "You know the one in the complex?"

He nodded without speaking, perhaps having used up his verbal communication quota for the day. Honestly, Claire could relate.

"Buy me something and we're even. Not coffee, since I've had my fill if you've noticed."

He gaped.

She turned towards the gate, towards the wreaths, the twinkling lights and crowds and benches with seeping dew that earlier she had wanted so desperately to avoid.

"You coming?" she didn't check to see if he was following before beginning her slow, measured tread.

She heard the crunch of boots on asphalt behind her and shoved her hands in her pockets.

"What's your name?" her eyes were half-lidded against the chill.

"H-Hope."

"That so?" she hummed.

As they walked, she wondered if her family was home yet.

With any luck, she wouldn't get back until Snow had already done all the work.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Idk. I was just lamenting the fact that ff13 archives hadn't had much going for a while, in no small part bc I was also not posting anything but yea. I just had to write like

Something. The ending sux but at this point it doesn't matter bc i just gotta start writing, no matter what it is i write.

For now it's a oneshot but it might be a thing? I know how bad I am with stuff like that, but if I did continue it'd most likely just be a whole bunch of other short ficlets of things i come up with on the spot solely bc i need to have something to write every day. Maybe among those (if, say, I decided to keep going) will be a second part to this. Maybe I'll start a new story entirely dedicated to oneshots. Unsure lol

Feedback is love!


	2. fallen stars, part 1

She met him, as it stands, on the cusp of adulthood.

If she were to look back and think of serendipity, of fate and second chances and squandered beginnings, she'd only go on record to intimate: "I found him and he found me, fuck it all and destiny be damned."

* * *

"Excuse me," she sounded distinctly irritable, even to her own ears. "You're in my spot."

Tufts of hair, so white it sheened silver in the afternoon light cascading through the stained glass, shifted as he pushed his palms clumsily against the table.

His chair screeched against the marble floor too quickly, the sudden vacancy causing him to almost stumble as he stood.

"What?" he gulped.

"My spot," she clicked her tongue. "You're in it."

"It's...a _public_ library," a furrow in his brow, once he had wits about him.

"Move."

"I…" he ventured, but his shoulders drooped with a sigh.

Claire watched him shuffle miserably towards the towering shelves before she inwardly cursed.

"Wait," she jogged to close their gap. "Wait."

His questioning gaze flinched at her expression, creased and severe. She groaned.

"Look. I didn't mean-"

Her palm, fisted against the nearest wall.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she tried again. "I've just had kinda a shitty day. Late to class, failed my chem homework, fell flat on my ass - right in the puddle of course. You know how it is."

When he still didn't respond, she gritted her teeth.

"I'll...I'll get out of your hair," she exhaled. "Don't leave on my account alright?"

She had hardly turned her back when-

"Chem...you said?"

So quiet she would've thought it was the whisper of parchment scraped against parchment.

Timidly, slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers. And she was _not_ thinking about what a spectacular green it was, of how it was like a molten jade and she was submerged in them, entrenched-

A violent shake of her head, and he was startled enough that she saw _more_ of the green and this boy was unintentionally playing hardball and she wasn't here for it.

"Sorry, what?" she attempted. "I didn't quite catch that."

"I said that, um, if you were having trouble with Chemistry, maybe I could help?"

At her silence, he hastily backtracked.

"Of c-course, only if you wanted! I'm not saying I'm that good myself, it's just I'm also in a chem class and maybe I'd...I dunno. I mean, forget it-"

"You'd do that?" she interjected, surprise coloring her cheeks. "Really?"

"Y-Yeah. Yes, if you don't mind."

She blinked.

"That would really help out a lot. Thanks."

The corners of his mouth lifted awkwardly, and _oh lord_, Claire thought. _That is entirely not allowed._

In retrospect, some small, niggling part of her already knew.

She was doomed.

* * *

As it happens, Hope had gone far beyond selling himself short. Hell, she was almost offended _for _him_._

"Dude," Claire frowned, peering at some of the research papers strewn across his binders. She couldn't understand a dallying _scrap_ of the jargon scrawled along the margins.

"What do you _mean_ not that good yourself? You're a fucking genius. "In chem class" my ass- you might've mentioned you're _teaching _it!"

"Oh," he mumbled, nose dusted red. "That's- they're just some of my notes."

"Hope, you don't need to bother with a lost cause like me," Claire insisted.

"I said I'd help."

It was the firmest tone she'd heard him take.

"Well, alright then," Claire grinned. "Just to warn you, I don't care how many accolades you've got, teaching me's about to be your greatest challenge."

A tremulous smile, framed by wisps of silver.

"I think I'll manage."

Fuck, but honest to god she tried to stamp down that traitorous flutter of her chest.

* * *

Leaning back unceremoniously, tipping the chair until its axis teetered precariously back and forth, she sighed at his question.

"I dunno," the pencil perched just as precariously on the bridge of her nose. "You know chem is just a breadth requirement, I would never put myself through that torture willingly."

"But then-"

"To be honest, I really don't know, okay?" she grumbled, folding her arms. "I don't know what I'm going to do after college. I don't know what to do with myself most of the time as it is. It's-"

She huffed, snatching the pencil aside in the curve of her finger.

Her face, cast in shadow from the dim lighting in his apartment.

"It's just hard, you know? I'm constantly surrounded by all of these amazing people. You, Serah, even _Snow-"_

She wrinkled her nose as if there wafted an aroma of something distinctly unpleasant.

"You're all so sure of yourselves. And I'm...just me. It's frustrating."

A hand, firm for all of his usual temperament, clasped hers tightly.

"'Just you' is enough," he said quietly.

"Hope…" she set her chair back down.

"More than enough," he mumbled. "I'm glad to have met you, Claire. I-I hope you realize."

She laughed, shifting so her fingers could curl around his.

"Well, I do now."

Sighing, she tilted her face towards the shutters, bunched together at the top of his window. From their crevices sifted motes of faint starlight.

"The feeling's mutual, you dork."

* * *

"...And Serah's already got jobs lined up for when she gets out when I'm supposed to be the older one, and Snow's already been offered a contract and he's an _oaf-"_

"Claire, it's okay-"

"It's not!" she wasn't one to go into hysterics, but suddenly her breaths were stilted and brief, her heart palpitating frantically against her ribcage. "I've been responsible for her all my life since mom and dad died, but now I'm the only one a total mess. She'll...They'll leave me behind at this rate, I can't stand being so _pathetic-_"

"_Take that back!" _he hissed.

She did, if only because it was the first she'd ever heard Hope so hostile.

"I won't stand for it, Claire. Not even if it's you yourself who says it. Not when you're the most amazing person I know."

"Hope," she mumbled. "I'm sure you deal with more impressive people _daily_-"

"Them," Hope scoffed. "Bootlickers and elitists who fawn over anyone who's a little bit good with numbers. You're ten times the person they wish they could be. Ten times the person _I_ want to be."

"That isn't true and you know it," she huffed, cheeks pink. "In what way-"

"Because you're you!" Hope exploded, as if his blood was hot, pushing against his insides, scraping along his walls. "And I know that sounds cheesy but that's not it, it's because you've never stopped being afraid of being who you are, never stopped not giving a single_ shit_ what anyone had to say about it."

His heavy breaths had him hunched and in perpetual motion. His eyes were wide, as if appalled at his outburst, as if powered by coursing shame and impetuousness all at once.

"You're reckless, obstinate to a fault, remarkably rude, and the most genuine person I've ever had the fortune to meet. You're incredible, and you have to see that, Claire. You have to."

But she had already inched closer without his notice, fingers searching for his, salmon strands brushing against his shoulder.

"Wh-" he gulped, feet scrabbling for purchase as he leaned back in surprise.

Her eyes, a veritable ocean, a blue so fierce he was consumed.

"You have to be aware," she said slowly, her tone, low and meandering. "Of what you're doing."

She shifted closer. There was hardly room for a breath between them.

"What I'm…?" he stammered, his eyes swimming with confusion.

At last, a smile tugged at her lips.

"Go out with me, Hope," she chuckled, backing away.

His hands were frozen. His visage stilled in that same interval of apprehension that she'd left him in.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"But...why?"

"Yikes," she rolled her eyes. "That's definitely what a girl wants to hear in response."

"No, I-I mean," he stumbled, hands finally in motion, clawing at air in his typical helpless gestures.

"Because," she spared him, still smiling. Her own hands clasped together but trembling if one were to examine closely. "I like you. What other reason would there be? 'M not too far below your paygrade, am I?"

"Of course not!" he shook his head so vigorously she was afraid he's collapse. "Of course not. I…"

He averted his gaze, one thumb twiddling against the other.

"I'd love to go out with you."

"Well, that's settled," she beamed, even as she tried to affect nonchalance. "We'll set a date in a bit, but first, help me with this problem set because if I have to spend another minute looking at it I swear I'll gouge out my own eyeballs."

He laughed - deep seated, from his belly, his throat hoarse for it - and dragged himself closer.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay fine I give in.

Head's up, this is one of two parts. I initially just planned on doing a short snippet based on a simple concept like how I want to do most of these, but of course it ran away from me and I stretched it to this unspeakable thing. I almost considered scrapping this entirely because I really didn't like it how a lot of it turned out, but I promised myself I'd just write and post no matter what lol.

Part two of Coffee is possible and might be somewhere down the line.

I subsist on feedback wink wink


	3. Proposal

Proposal

**Author's note:** Because fuuuck social norms :)

* * *

Hands cold and clammy, and the weight of it in her pocket.

Her eyes, squirming with blue, quivering as she stiffly palmed the box at intermittent intervals, obsessively confirming its presence.

And it so easily occurred to her how it was _nonsense_, the way she was reacting, because the whole point was that she get it over with quickly. That in the grand scheme, to them, in the context of their future, the midst of the alignment of the stars or whatever shit analogy she could come up with, _it didn't matter._

None of this was important, really. She didn't even book a restaurant and its accompanying threat of formal wear, atmospheric lighting, romantic undertones of quiet and comfort and elegance and discomfort.

She'd just figured it was time, they might as well because, simply _because_, and she'd sooner throw it at his head than wax lyrical about the qualities that made him appealing anyway.

But when she saw him, idly tapping away at his work, a huge unattractive yawn splitting his face open, bare feet squished against one side of the swivel chair, her throat stuck itself and she almost choked.

Again, twin, piercing blue, darting to her pocket.

"Hope."

"Mmm…?" Nearly asleep while she agonized, the nerve of him.

She froze, the lump still lodged somewhere in her trachea, and fingers stopped just short of delving deep enough to scrape the velvet in her pants.

But she glared, at him, at nothing in particular, at maybe that discoloured corner of the wall from when they spilled fruit punch, and-

She was Claire. Goddamned fucking Claire Farron. The hell was this to her?

"Hope," her voice a tad firmer. "Come here for a bit. I need to talk to you."

"Light," he groaned, blearily scraping cotton from his eyes. "Can this wait?"

_Yes, honestly. Yes, it's no big deal and shouldn't be and isn't. Why was this so hard?!_

"Just c'mere."

Another yawn, and it made him look like some sea creature.

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, stumbling over and practically collapsing on the couch next to her.

"Um,"

She fidgeted, but in one violent motion tore the box out and held it - nearly dangled it, like it was something grotesque she needed distance from - out in full display.

With her thumb, she clumsily flicked it open and shoved it in his face.

He blinked.

When he didn't say anything, perhaps due to sleep marring his cognizance, smearing his features narrow, she had a moment of panic.

Later looking back, she swore she didn't ramble like an unintelligible teenager, and gave Snow a black eye for asking.

"Look, this doesn't really mean anything, okay?" she babbled. "We don't need this stupid ring to know where we stand with each other, we don't need a damned ceremony or vows because I know you and you know me."

He still didn't utter a word, and the pitch of her voice became momentarily shrill.

"But I just thought...I dunno, I'm being dumb. This is dumb. I-"

She bit her lip.

"I hate that you're able to make me feel anything like this. I hate that I've grown so comfortable being around you every waking moment, and I _hate_ that you've made me into someone who would even consider doing this."

And oh god, she really _was_ waxing lyrical. She'd never live this down.

Another pause.

"Wow," he blinked again.

"'_Wow_'?" she seethed. "Don't make me shove this ring somewhere unpleasant."

But of course she was blushing through her bluster.

"You really are something else," he began to _laugh_, and how she'd love to really give him something to laugh about.

Hope's smile, however, was so lopsided and large it unbalanced his visage, tilting his head and pronouncing his dimples.

"Ask me," he said, so cheerful it made her sick and warm at the same time.

"What?"

"Ask me."

And the brat had the absolute _gall_ to daintily hold out his left hand, angling his fingers for extra petite effect - chin tilted, eyes half-lidded - in the most simpering affectation she'd ever seen.

She rolled her eyes. The nerve of this man.

"Will you," she paused, her eyebrows raised skeptically.

"My sweet summer flower," she drawled, deadpan. He was still looking at her expectantly, his lashes cutting across meadows tinged emerald.

"Marry me," she finished, grimacing.

He grinned, and just because it was shit-eating did not make it any less genuine.

"Of course I will!" he sighed contentedly, hand clutched to his heart. "You've made me the luckiest boy in the world."

She put it on his finger, twisting it firmly in place, and if it was harsher than needed, he didn't say anything.

"God, but I love you," he beamed, holding his hand in front to admire his ring in the light.

"Jury's still out on my end," Claire muttered, but she was smiling.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to put out some quick fluff. There's been a little activity in the fandom recently so I wanted to add to its momentum at least somewhat. I'll hopefully get the next installments in sooner than later!


	4. Coffee, part 2

"Sooooooo."

Claire glanced quizzically from her perch on the couch, her magazine drooping unceremoniously from her lax grip.

When nothing further was said, she cautiously thumbed her next page.

"Sooooooo, Claire."

She sighed, knowing her sister too well to entertain any notion of a peaceful perusement, giving up entirely and tossing her magazine dispassionately to the tiled floor.

"What, Serah?"

"So," and Serah had that shit-eating smirk that anyone who thought they knew her would swear they've never seen before because she's so pure and angelic and compassionate, and bull. SHIT. Claire knew better.

"I've been hearing some thiiiings," Serah claimed, busily shoving Claire's legs aside to make room for herself.

Claire rolled her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, y'know," her sister's dimples creased wider. "I've heard you've got yourself a new…"

She paused, relishing the syllables as they curved her lips.

"Friend."

Claire groaned, snatching up her magazine once more only to use it to obscure her face completely. Darkness shrouded her vision and her voice was muffled even as it was tinged with disdain.

"Serah, please."

"Oh, come on!" Serah impatiently tugged the pages away so she could look her sister in the eye. "It's true, right? Snow says he's pretty sure you've been meeting with this guy ever since Christmas! I for one think it's _wonderful_ you're finally-"

"I'm going to say this once, okay?" Claire seethed through the gaps in her teeth. "_Drop it_."

"Claiiiire," Serah moaned. "You can't blame me for being at least curious, it's been ages since you've put yourself out there-"

"It isn't like that," Claire growled. "It doesn't mean anything. So I sometimes get some coffee with him, so what. We're not even friends."

Even as she said it, her gut churned with mild discomfort. That might have been a little harsh and she was sort of glad he wasn't around to have heard her say it.

"You know you're gonna have to tell me more than that," Serah batted her eyelashes like the absolute cloved demon from hell she truly was. "From you, 'sometimes getting coffee' is practically a confession of undying love."

"No, it isn't," she huffed. "Stop sticking your nose in my business."

"Ah, there's _business_ to stick my nose into, is there?" Serah snickered.

"His name is Hope," Claire's eyes were shut, her fingers drumming a steady tattoo against her forehead as she tried to refrain from strangling her one and only sibling. "He's an awkward mess who spilled his coffee and ruined my best pair of boots and I felt sorry for him. Yes, I _sometimes_ get a drink with him in the cafe by the mall because...because it's just a habit by now and our schedules happen to line up. I'll admit he's not the most unpleasant person to have a break with. For one, unlike most of my friends and _family_, he knows how to be quiet."

She looked pointedly at her sister, who whistled insincerely and didn't even avert her gaze.

"And I'm only telling you this so you'll leave me alone about it."

Serah giggled, a shrill disconcerting cacophony nothing like her usual delicate melody that reminded people of goddamned birdsong.

"I'm just _saying_-"

"Fuck you," Claire scoffed, heading into kitchen to make herself a sandwich.

"I love you, Claire! Lemme know if you need help asking for his number, 'cause I gotchuuu"

Her sister curled her hand, thumb and pinky extended in a "call me" gesture as she wiggled it salaciously at Claire.

Scratch that, she was eating out today at the most expensive restaurant in the vicinity, and she was billing it to her dear, dear sister.

* * *

She squirmed uncomfortably, squinting through lidded eyes at the window, affording her a view of the grey canopy obscuring the sky. The overcast clung heavily to the horizon, cleaving itself stubbornly to the city, leaving the streets entrenched in a fine mist.

Across from her, he timidly peeked around his laptop screen.

"Umm, I-I'm not making too much noise typing, am I? Sorry if I disturbed you."

"For the last time, you're fine," Claire glared at him. "Stop asking that."

"S-Sorry," he stammered.

"No, don't - I mean - " she sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "You're fine, okay Hope? I wouldn't keep agreeing to have coffee with you if you were bothering me."

"Okay," he murmured, eyes shifting quietly back to his work.

She let out a frustrated huff, nails clicking against the laminate covering of their booth.

She glanced at Hope, her eyes narrowing as Serah's phantom needling wormed its way into her thoughts.

"Um, if it's something I did…" Hope cautiously ventured.

"It's not that," she pursed her lips. "My sister just...made me a little self-conscious about this, that's all. She's put all these ideas in my head about implications that _aren't there_, but it's like, ruined this for me, a little."

Emerald pinpricks grew wide, sweeping in their surprise, tension worming its way into the creases where eye met nose.

"Then…" he gulped. "We should stop. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"_Hope,_" she clenched her teeth. "For the last time-"

"Hear me out," he turned pink, but she blinked and listened. "I...um, I'm not very good at talking to people. You've probably figured that out by now. I, to be honest, I'm surprised you're still willing to spend this time with me."

The self-deprecation did not sit well with her, and she furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to tell him so, but he spoke first.

"I'm really grateful, Claire," a smile, thinly spread in its melancholy but genuine all the same, and it tugged at something in her. "You're a good person, a-and you'll definitely insist it's not pity or anything that's keeping you here. Regardless, I-"

The green squirmed, averted its gaze from her jagged blue into his lap.

"We're not really...friends, right?" he asked.

She moved to try and argue. Couldn't.

"It's alright," still the smile. "This isn't me fishing for a...a response or your sympathy or anything. It's the truth, and that's okay. We don't know each other that well, if at all. I'm only the guy who drenched your boots in coffee, and, I, I'm pretty sure this is the most I've said at any given time by far and to be honest, I'm surprised I haven't completely clammed up."

She noted his trembling shoulders. The teeth constantly worrying his lip, his eyes perpetually downcast, fingers drumming an incessant tattoo against the rim of his laptop.

"Hope…"

"So, my thing is," Hope pressed on, clearly attempting to discharge all he had to say before his nerves failed him. "The thing is, it only makes sense that we call it off since it's inconveniencing you. It's not a big deal, right?"

"I-" she tried.

"This was just something nice we'd do to unwind," he stressed, rushing to blurt his piece, pale like bile was rising in his throat. "A trifle. And r-really, it is. You don't need to worry about it if it's weighing on you at all, I swear."

She frowned, unable to truly refute him, but something stirred in the pit of her stomach as he already rose, gathering his equipment into his bag, slinging it over one shoulder, strapped over his opposite hip.

"Then, I'll see you...um, around, Claire," he stammered.

She was frozen, rooted to the spot, without a clue as to why, and he was already at the door, the telltale jingle announcing his departure, his empty glass neatly bussed at the side counter.

She swerved, a moment too late, a mote too far past an excusable distance from which to stop him within the bounds of courtesy.

"H-Hope!"

He turned, smile still affected, bare and tremulous.

"I…"

Words would not come. They sat there, a million things to say lodged staunchly in her throat.

"If," she began lamely. "If you ever want me...y'know, for anything, just, just text me okay? K-Keep in touch."

He nodded, an obligatory, resigned sort of thing that sent her stomach sinking, adrift in vertigo.

The last she saw of him, his shoulders were slumped, and she told herself this was for the best, it was relieving just like he said it would be-

She felt like she couldn't breathe.

* * *

"So, Sunshine, what's got you all brooding and sour-faced? Y'know, more than usual."

She scowled, sipping from her cocktail.

"Dunno what you're talking about, Fang."

"Come on," Fang rolled her eyes, leaning one bronzed elbow lazily on her friend's shoulder. "You may have one glorious _heck_ of a resting bitch face," Claire sent her a withering glare.

"...But I can tell when something's really got you down. Tell me, we've been friends forever."

"'Friends' is reaching," she snarked, the ephemeral sheen of her drink stark against the dim lighting as she downed it in one swallow.

"C'mon, Claire," Fang drawled. "It's weird enough you agreed to hang out at the bar with me. It's not your scene. I mean I'm grateful for the company, don't get me wrong - I've been _so _lonely since Vanille's been runnin' herself ragged on overtime the whole week, after all," she simpered, fluttering her eyelashes for effect.

"But you're only here because somethin' ain't right," Fang surmised. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"It's none of your business," Claire moaned.

"Give it up," Fang muttered childishly, physically prodding her friend in the hollow of her hip. "Tell me. Tell me. Tellll meeeee-"

"Ouch! Ow! Quit it, you insufferable twit! I don't even know myself, okay?"

"Really?" Fang narrowed her eyes.

The music was distantly pleasant, a reverberating beat thrumming mildly along the sparsely populated dance floor, across cream-colored walls, cones of soft drifting light washing over the crevices of spindly chairs and smooth tile.

"I don't," Claire mumbled, her gaze unfocused partly due to alcohol.

She didn't. Not really. Not in any of the ways that didn't matter.

But in her bones, along the seam of her eyelids and the throb of her heartbeat, she felt it.

The gaping, gnawing emptiness, lined with the tinge of guilt, laced with the faint telltale pricking of insecurity, but mostly-

She knew, in all the ways that matter.

Something was missing.

* * *

"Hey, Claire?"

Her timid tenor didn't reach the walls. Claire, sagging on the couch, hardly made out that Serah said anything.

"Yes?"

"Is...Is everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Claire sighed, eyes closed against the murk of dusk through the half-shuttered windows.

"I noticed you haven't, um," Serah's eyes darted from one end of the room to the other. "That is, have you talked to Hope recently?"

"No," came the grunt.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Claire, if it's anything I said that made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't cut off your friend, it's not good for either of you-"

"We weren't friends."

"Claire," Serah finally allowed a waspish tinge to her tone, her cheeks filling with color. "I hadn't seen you so at ease since...since _never_ as far as I can remember, maybe not since my wedding, you can't just end things like that with him."

"We were in agreement," Claire didn't sound angry. She spoke like the rattle of a typewriter, her words the gray, undetectable noise of a book falling gracelessly to the carpet. "We hardly knew a thing about each other. There wasn't a reason to keep meeting."

"Bull_shit_, Claire," Serah entreated desperately. "Look, I'm so sorry, I really am, if any of what I said drove you away from talking with him. Don't let me being insensitive stop you from enjoying yourself. You know I'll never judge you for anything."

When her sister didn't respond, Serah hung her head and made for the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Claire," she tried again, at the alcove between rooms, one hand on the wall. "You'd never seemed so happy. Please talk to him again."

Claire slanted her gaze at her phone.

* * *

The tassels of the scarf tickled her nose as she moved to wrap it tighter. Strands of salmon left loose from the confines managed to dangle amidst the drifting snow.

Her fingers surreptitiously grazed the lining of her pocket every few seconds as she tried to resist the urge to check her messages.

She peered forlornly at the cheerful image of meandering lines of steam drawn on the coffee shop's signboard, a quick abridged menu chalked in below it.

The faint push of shoes through snow, the gentle crackling of diverted ice and gravel from behind her.

She turned slowly, and emerging from the crosswalk, he lifted his hand in a timid gesture.

"I got your texts," he mumbled, vision directed at the snow bunched around his sneakers.

When he finally looked at her, she internally wilted from his expression. Strained, like always, the muscles taut against the lining of his otherwise round cheeks burning in the cold.

But the warmth of palpable relief upon seeing her. The unconscious softening of his lip into an involuntary smile, before his clumsy attempt at steeling his features.

Any lingering fragments of resistance crumbled. Claire felt heat welling up behind her chest and the threat of tears pushing at the stainless blue of her eyes.

"Claire, why did you want me to meet you? Is there something wro-"

It was when he trepidatiously drew nearer that, on impulse, she brusquely pulled him into an embrace, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

"You're not trouble," she interrupted. "I was stupid for ever making you feel that way. Without you-"

She faltered. She wasn't quite ready to say _that_.

"I should've run after you," her chin moved against his shoulder. "I like it when we hang out. I do."

Hope was, understandably, frozen. His body, rigid like a corpse, sweat beading behind his ear as his hands scrabbled for purchase since there was none, unless he'd like to place them somewhere on the warm, very much real person _holding _him-

Mercifully, she drew away, but never averted her gaze.

"Hope, we _are_ friends. I'm sorry I gave you the impression we weren't."

He couldn't contain the tremor of his lips, but he gathered the courage to touch his hand to hers.

"Then…" he swallowed. "Um, you wouldn't mind going inside and, and getting a cup of coffee with me?"

She smiled. A small, nonetheless radiant quirk of her lips.

It was in the set of his shoulders, weakly staunch, still quavering. The line of his brows, unsteady and furrowed, middling in his laughable attempt at firming them. Undoubtedly the sweat at his back, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin, his pallor white, his folded posture screaming his readiness to flee. It was in the idea that one word from her and he'd topple, that he was a dismissive glance away from collapsing into bits of himself, unsalvageable, but-

But he said it anyway.

And a more beautiful sight she'd never seen.

"I'd like nothing better."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Fluff! In the end, always fluff!

Part 3 is possible. Maybe. But the next chapter is probably gonna be something else, so it'd be later if I do write it.

Let me know what you thought!


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